


Blue Ink

by Dribbles



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Comfort, Drug Use, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, emotional smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 03:00:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14886378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dribbles/pseuds/Dribbles
Summary: Baekhyun came into his life like a blazing flame of brilliant, saturated colours, and could easily disappear into the ether. Every facet of him, marred by life, while Yixing’s left no traces. Doused himself in bleach robbed of cuts, smells and stains. Hidden pain lining his skin, illustrated in black ink.





	Blue Ink

 

 

 

  
  
friday

❇

 

  
His hands are clean, freshly washed in a sink littered with smatterings of ash and stomach acid. His bright skin glows under flickering, fluorescent tubes of light. His mirrored reflection, marred by a collage of graffiti, marks of strangers past. His shined boots slide over cracked tiles as he tucks in a spotless, taupe t-shirt into perfectly prim denim. A finely tailored blazer fits loose over strong shoulders that slant with his refined posture. Its sleeves hide dainty, inked illustrations over his skin. A curation of moments most treasured. The pain of the needle fades into obscurity but the memories remain detailed, clear as his gaze. He is also certain he is having a fucking boring ass time.  
  
Before he leaves he makes a final check, his cropped hair sits exactly as he wants it. An asymmetrical fringe of dark strands framed by shaved sides. Clean cut edges. The polished silver ring that hangs from his ear catches a final glint cast from the dingy bathroom, as he pushes the door and heads out into a wild display of shit-faced, barely-legal adults, pumping to a booming club beat.  
  
“Hey!” he yells over the thumping, skull crushing music. “I’m leaving!” His friend turns with sunken eyes and a slurred tongue “no worries man!” he yells back. Thankfully he misses the spit that flies out of his drunk mouth.  
  
“Happy birthday by the way!”  
  
Making one last act of goodwill before his friend pats his shoulder in thanks with a sloppy smile.  
  
He’ll be fine without him.  
  
Yixing had decided that he would only attend his work mate's birthday for an hour, before looking for his own fun. The neon lights flash a glitter of colour in puddles pooled along the sidewalk. Yixing paces down the street, his internal compass leading him directly to his favourite spot, a small bar, with naked orange bulbs and sombre music. He arrives alone as always but never fails to leave with another warm body dangling by his neck. Maybe its still early, because no one is really here. But he orders a gin anyway and waits it out.  
  
Drink. Wait. Drink. Wait.  
  
Each song blurs into the next and listening for familiar lyrics is all he has to entertain himself. There are some faces he recognizes in the dim light, but one-night stands are what he really craves. A single fleeting moment of smeared fluids and messy hair, disappearing when he silently escapes their front doors and wipes the stains from his memory clean.  
  
As he sits aloof, the seat next to him remains completely empty and his usual bubbly buzz is slowly morphing into a dead weight. He orders his 5th drink and decides that it’ll be the last. The bartender looks on with pity and Yixing is starting to feel like a fucking loser. He rubs his face in irritation, the heat colouring his neck and tensing his muscles. He quickly downs the last of his drink in one healthy gulp, wiping the drips from his chin as he stomps his way out the fucking exit. He wishes he could just slam the fucking door in the guard’s fucking face, but... he isn’t that drunk.  
  
He stands huffing out clouds of condensation trying to maintain some of his sanity. Perplexed at the lack of interest, Yixing wonders back to his one bedroom unit in a daze. What’s the point anyway? He doesn't need anyone. All he needs is his single toothbrush and single towel hanging on its single hook. His tiny kitchenette is stocked with a single plate and a single mug and has just enough food for one hungry stomach.  
  
He kicks a puddle in frustration, its splash echoing through a darkened alley. He would keep walking but as the water settles, he hears the sounds of sneakers scuffling across wet cement and aggravated voices rise in pitch.  
  
“Get the fuck away from me!”  
  
The distinct yell pierces his ears. He stops and turns into the darkness, squinting to try and make out the antagonistic figure. “You fucking cunt! I said get the fuck away from me!” The voice burns with rancid rage. He hears a whack, fist to cheek and Yixing freezes with the moral dilemma. Should he risk getting the shit beaten out of him? Blood stains are hard to get out. His place is so close though and drunken rows usually end eventually…  
  
Most of the time in hospital.  
  
Dammit. The guilt of potential death is enough to drive Yixing to at least check it out.  
  
As he walks forward into the alley, the street lights fade away and his eyes adjust to the dark. His feet grow more hesitant as his steps shorten and the volume of their fight increases. It drums at the anxiety of his chest. Darkened blurs fly about and violent groans flood with excruciating pain.  
  
“Hey!” Yixing yells, unsuccessfully gaining their attention.  
  
“I said hey! Break it up or I’ll call the cops”, he finally fumbles for his phone and flicks on the harsh blaring torch, erasing their anonymity. Yixing gets flashes of red fading into blues and blacks before one guy, marked by a bald head, takes off sprinting down the vacant alley, his frightened footfalls disappear into nothingness.  
  
Yixing stands frozen, hand still clutching his phone, its light beaming into a hunched body heaving, eyes avoiding the blinding beacon.  
  
“Hey, sorry about that man. Are you okay?” Yixing mumbles out trying to figure out what to do with his hands.  
  
“Thanks a lot, you shit!” the stranger spits out. He stands upright and turns towards the end of the alley.  
  
“Excuse me?” Yixing’s words are hardened by the offence. Who the fuck does this guy think he is?  
  
“I said…” he clears his voice and turns directly to Yixing, chest slightly puffed and tongue poking the walls of his mouth, “thanks a fuck tonne! I just lost a--shit!” His voice is vicious and his words are sharp like daggers. Yixing’s breath quickens, legs almost quake, enough to lose his balance when he gets shoved to the ground. Yixing groans feeling the muddy rain soak through the back side of his jeans as he gets up and swats away at the gravel clinging to him. He shakes his head slightly at the fucking audacity.  
  
With teeth clenched, his voice seethes, “fucking asshole”.  
  
The stranger beelines for Yixing, threatening him chest to chest, “And what are you gonna do? Huh?” his tone dripping with uncouth vigour. Yixing’s affronted eyes flick up at the short distance between their shallow breaths. Heat radiates against him, noticing droopy eyes and a tiny gash on the highest point of the stranger’s cheek. Its blood trickles down like a single tear and the ends of his flat hair congeal to it.  
  
“He hurt you?” the words spill out all on their own and Yixing sees the confusion contort the stranger’s face. He responds by jutting his jaw in defiance and declares, “fuck no!” as he pushes Yixing again.  
  
This time his heels burrow into the gravel, firmly holding his weight. Gaining his balance he pushes back, taking purchase of his thin t-shit and fisting the collar. His grip so hard his knuckles run white. This kid is doing his head in so he yells with irritation.  
  
“I was just trying to help!”  
  
“There was no one to help” he fires back with the same voracity.  
  
He pushes himself into the force of Yixing’s fists, voice almost gagging. Their noses press together and nostrils flare at the stalemate. The intimacy almost makes Yixing want to cower. To hide away from this bright light and the way those bulging, black pupils bore holes into his own.  
  
An unexpected chill streams through Yixing’s spine the moment the tip of his tongue flicks out at the corner of an erratic smirk. Its wetness sparkles in the moonlight as he swipes slowly against his bottom lip.  
  
“Fine! I’ll be on my merry way then,” Yixing snaps, breaking away. He takes one final look at that grin still taunting him, floating in a blanket of darkness. Yixing leaves him there alone and hastens back along the lamp post, lit streets towards the comfort of home.  
  
With each step, he tries to use the whipping, cold air to cool him down. He huffs out a bemused laugh and rubs down his face to sober himself up. Just as he is about to turn into his street, familiar footsteps and a raspy, ragged breath emerge behind him.  
  
“Hey! why go so suddenly? We were just starting to have fun!”  
  
In the light Yixing can now make out a friendly smile and tinges of redlining his cheeky eyes. He ain’t gonna fall for this guy’s shit. “Look… I’m not interested in being one of your clients okay?” he tries to explain hoping this guy would appreciate the clarity. Why else would some dude rough him up in a darkened alley?  
  
“And what makes you say that?” he replies brimming with amusement. Yixing’s eyelids blink rapidly as his mind tries to wrap his head around the complete 180 in this dudes’ demeanour. So he continues his theory with discretion, hiding his mouth behind his fist and pinching at his nose. “Don’t play dumb okay. I don’t need to pay for shit like that,” he insists. All he gets back is breathy laughter that cracks with a high-pitched rasp.  
  
“Pay for what?” he looks at Yixing with expectation. “Come on, spit it out” he jibes, like all of a sudden they are the best of friends.  
  
“Pay for sex,” he mutters trying to conceal the embarrassment, wide eyes flickering about like everyone can hear.  
  
“Great! I don’t.” He replies completely nonchalant.  
  
“What?”  
  
“I don’t charge money for sex, you idiot”  
  
Yixing’s mouth makes the shape of words but nothing comes out and a giant question mark inscribes into his expression.  
  
“I sell dope,” he states like its the most common thing in the world.  
  
A bag of weed drops into Yixing’s line of sight and dangles in the air like a doggy treat. His eyes soften at the appeal, trailing up along the line of delicate fingers. He discerns the crevices of his short nails, filled with black grime and his knuckles covered in scabs.  
  
“You live around here?” he jerks his neck towards the vague direction of Yixing’s apartment building.  
  
“Y-yeah…” he stammers in reply, slightly apprehensive.  
  
“You wanna smoke together?” his tongue does that thing again and Yixing can’t un-see it. Like its winking at him. Like he knows exactly what it's doing to him.  
  
He sighs and seriously considers his options.  
  
Going to bed alone or going to bed high…  
  
  


 

  
  
  
~  
  
  


 

  
  
  
Yixing holds his front door open and lets in his strange acquaintance, bodies too close as they pass through the threshold. In the darkened silence he corners Yixing. The light from the hall illuminates half a grinning face, the details lost in the shadows as he leans forward near Yixing’s ear, whispering, “I’m Baekhyun, by the way”. The gentleness of the exchange tingles down his neck. His natural reflex is to raise his shoulder in defence, “Yixing,” he says back as Baekhyun smiles in recognition.  
  
The door shuts with a thud, the lights flick on with a click and their weight creates a melody of creaking floorboards. The apartment itself is basically a cardboard box filled with Yixing’s whole life. His single mattress shoved in the far corner for rest and a tiny desk perched under a perfectly square window for play. Sleek kitchen cabinets run across the opposite wall, free from clutter. Nothing seems out of line.  
  
“Nice place… it's very…nice,” Baekhyun notes snooping his way through his things. Yixing clears his throat, feeling it slightly constrict on the tension.  
  
“Thanks,” he mutters with a shrug, still reeling from their proximity. “You need a glass of water?” he asks seeing Baekhyun open the fridge. “Yeah sure,” he pops up from behind the open door, its warm light shining from below. It makes his irises look translucent and glow orange. Yixing finally moves from his spot and fetches one glass and one coffee mug, filling them up to the brim. “You don’t have visitors much, huh?” Baekhyun grins at the mismatched ceramics. Yixing nods his head agreeing silently. He gulps down every drop in a flash realising just how dry his mouth is. Baekhyun sips his slowly looking at Yixing again with those piercing eyes.  
  
Exchanged glances fall away as Baekhyun moves to take a seat at the edge of the bed looking forward at the bare dresser set against an equally blank wall. “Where the fuck is your TV?” he gawks up at Yixing. “Don’t need it,” he plainly states. “What do you do then, to relax?” he glares back, head low but eyes peering up.  
  
“I make poor decisions. Like, entertain drug dealers who almost get me beat up.”  
  
Baekhyun’s lips stretch in amusement as he takes out the tiny bag of weed. “So you wanna…? It’ll be my apology,” he shakes it again with wiggling eyebrows and the rustle of its leaves perks Yixing’s attention. “Definitely,” he nods and sits down next to him on the bed watching his nimble fingers curl the delicate paper around a sprinkling of green. That wet tongue darts out again to lick at the paper seam, carefully smoothing his fingers over the finished joint. Then from his deep pocket, he takes out a scuffed up plastic lighter.  
  
Baekhyun’s trousers bag around his thin frame held up around his waist by a woven belt, its ends are worn away by time. His t-shirt is covered in scribbled designs, half tucked in. Probably pulled out of place from Yixing’s grip. He looks completely undone as if caught in a storm. His hair appears wet but Yixing smells wafts of earthy oils. The cigarette suddenly sets ablaze and smoke gently caresses the curves of their cheeks. Baekhyun offers the next puff to him and he gladly takes it. With every deep inhalation, their limbs melt into the ground, their senses becoming dulled by a haze of grey clouds.  
  
They lie back staring up at the naked bulb hanging from a thin cable. It starts to move as if all on its own, in small circular motions around and around. It’s hypnotic and blinding, burning black dots in their vision. Their warmth starts to flow between them like a current of electricity. Yixing feels fingertips graze the space between his sweaty temple and earlobe, the slight tingles lull his eyes shut as he allows their softness to conjure his arm hairs to stand on end. The air burns so he slowly raises to take his jacket off and lets it drop to the floor like falling fruit. Those same fingertips now brush his forearms making tiny movements over a tiny tattoo.  
  
  
“What’s this one of?” Baekhyun drawls. Yixing shifts the weight of his slack neck, till he’s peering down at a curious set of eyes.  
  
“It's of fruit. A mulberry”.  
  
Flashes of its purple juices staining his infantile fingers. The grandness of that tree growing in his mother’s garden. Its withered branches hacked away when she wasn’t there anymore.  
  
  
“How many tattoos do you have?” Baekhyun asks again still tracing the outlines that sit at the fleshiest part of his inner elbow. Goosebumps raise at the touch like a subtle wind blowing fine grains of sand.  
  
“Eleven”. A snicker starts to bubble from his lips, “El-e-ven” announcing every syllable like a foreign word. They roll around on his lazy tongue over and over until they become abstract, phonetic sounds. His laughter becomes infectious when Baekhyun’s chest rumbles with delight, breathlessly pronouncing an elongated, “Elllll-eeeeee-veeeeeennn”. Yixing wipes away tears of joy, slapping at Baekhyun’s shoulders, unable to take one gasp of air in all the delirium.  
  
They're high gloriously swirls around them until they reach the last few hits of the stunted cigarette. They salvage what they can and then stub out its fire. With heavy bodies, they lie close to each other in complete bliss. Baekhyun lets his head drop to the side. His rasp fills Yixing’s hearing, feeling hot breath dance over his skin. “You have flowers in your ears” he curiously remarks, squinting his eyes and pinching the cartilage to inspect Yixing’s canal.  
  
“What kind?” Yixing giggles in reply.  
  
“Forget-me-nots. Their mouths are moving. I can’t hear what they’re saying.”  
  
“Wait!” Yixing silences him with a finger on his lips. He closes his eyes and concentrates trying to pick up on their hushed whispers. He starts to sense tiny flutters of petals against his eardrums. “They’re too quiet,” he equates, lips close to Baekhyun’s cheek that radiate a seductive heat. Yixing tries to get closer to it, coaxed by Baekhyun’s fingers rubbing at his pierced ear. Eventually, the tip of his nose gently touches the tiny cut on Baekhyun’s cheekbone. He smells its metallic notes as his breathing becomes deeper.  
  
“I’m hungry” Baekhyun suddenly states and quickly raises in his spot, looking to him for a remedy. Yixing buries his head in the sheets and there he finds more of Baekhyun’s scent. “I don’t really have enough food here,” his muffled voice vibrates against the mattress, “so we’ll have to order in”.  
  
“Do you even live here?” Baekhyun teases with a laugh that's rough like sandpaper. Yixing peeks up to see his illuminated features looking down at his phone. “Fried chicken?” Baekhyun suggests with eyes that sparkle and refracts the glow of scrolling images.  
  
“Fuck yes”.

 

 

  
  
  
~  
  
  


 

 

  
  
At 4:30 AM, Yixing’s floor is littered with four empty boxes filled with cleaned bones and smears of reddish, chilli sauce. Yixing doesn’t remember when they took their pants off but, with full bellies, their satiated bodies find comfort under a thick quilt where they slowly return to their normal state of mind. Baekhyun chuckles, “your ear just opened up into a fucking giant cave. It was trippy as fuck man”. His hands are pressed together in prayer and rest under his smushed cheek.  
  
Never having shared his bed, Yixing becomes strangely compelled by the weight of his curled up body heat, knees slightly jutting into his hip bone.  
  
While Baekhyun rambles on about his temporary high, Yixing turns and gazes at his vibrant expressions and brilliant eyes that inspires a rippling warmth. Maybe he is just realising the opportunity. Electricity bolts through his arm, raising it under the heavy blanket as he guides fingers across Baekhyun’s hairline and down the flesh of his cheek. The atmosphere turns dense Baekhyun’s chatter falters and his eyes startle. All the anticipation collects at the base of Yixing’s throat, just waiting for those lips to speak again.  
  
“What are you doing?” Baekhyun asks, voice low and raspy.  
  
Yixing says nothing but answers by continuing to trail his fingers down the line of his neck, pressing his whole palm at the base. There he stops and scratches his nails into Baekhyun’s hair. His eyes close and Yixing presses into the skin harder, eliciting a deep hum.  
  
“You want to kiss me?,” Baekhyun’s voice is small, lost in the heat of Yixing’s hand.  
  
His eyes burst open, pleadingly round and brow askew. Yixing’s grip tightens and tugs at his neck bringing him closer then takes in a breath of air, lips ajar. Their mouths are a whisper apart. Yixing’s arousal pangs at the distance. He pushes his own lips forward but feels Baekhyun playfully pull back. Grinning as he eyes Yixing’s fierce gaze, “I didn’t say you could,” he says with shaded eyes.  
  
At that, Yixing immediately releases his hold, his palms sweating uncomfortably. “Sorry…” he awkwardly murmurs and the apology wilts away the blossoming flower of hedonism. He retreats by rolling over and facing the wall, pulling the covers as tight as he can. There he feels the weight of the night slow his breathing and relax his eyelids. They sluggishly flutter, eyelashes kissing skin and body still as he drifts to sleep.  
  
Baekhyun watches on, the mound in front of him raising gently, up and down. His mind is utterly perplexed by the changing winds that blew away their fueled moment. But the mattress is comfy and his pillow caresses his head in the most satisfying way. So he tries to push away the impending flurry of insecurities and lets sleep take him too. Maybe it’ll come up in the morning.  
  


 

  
  


 

  
  
  
  
saturday

◯

  
  
Yixing wakes up to the sounds of muffled crooning and the spray of water. He lifts his heavy head and points his tired eyes to the locked bathroom door. He must still be here.  
  
Turning onto his back, he lifts himself up and against the wall. The wind is warm today as it rustles his now imperfect hair. He tries combing his fingers through it and manages to flatten the stands so they brush forward, touching his brows. They lift when he hears a particularly strong belt. From behind the door, Baekhyun runs his vocal cords up and down effortlessly as they ring through the empty apartment. Yixing becomes transfixed by the smooth timbre of his voice not even realising when the door finally opens, letting out billows of steam.  
  
 “Hey,” Baekhyun says shaking Yixing out of his stupor. He is just drying off, skin still pink from the searing water. Yixing averts his eyes slightly but not enough for Baekhyun to disappear from his peripheral vision. He goes to pick up his mangled t-shirt from the ground and before he even gets an arm through Yixing perks up, “Hey, you don’t have to wear that, just borrow one of mine” he shoots up, stumbling over the mattress and reaching the top drawer of his naked dresser. Baekhyun falters his actions and waits for a fresh shirt. A pristine, cotton tee. It's amazingly soft as he rubs it between his fingers. “Thanks” voice a bit hesitant.  
  
“As long as you give it back, yeah?”  
  
Baekhyun nods and lets his face melt into a shy grin as he slips it on. The fabric glides against his nose smelling its laundered, freshness. It’s been a while. They finish dressing and Yixing rummages around his fridge trying to find something to eat. Its filled with a pathetic collection of canned soft drink, milk and a few eggs. He scratches his head wanting to pay back Baekhyun properly for the weed. So he turns casually to suggest getting breakfast out.  
  
“It's midday…” Baekhyun prompts.  
  
“What about lunch then?” he tries again, feeling a little apprehension in Baekhyun’s shy glances. Where did the all that unhinged, confidence go?  
  
“Come on, I owe you”.  
  
At that Baekhyun lets out a breathy sigh and nods, “okay then”.  
  
Yixing leads him to a small, continental style cafe down the road. Its walls are exposed brick, washed in white paint. Bright green splashes of ferns decorate the space that’s filled with the scent of fresh bread and an earthy hum of coffee beans. They sit together in the sun but the meandering rants from the night before escape them. All that's left between them is a painfully, awkward silence, fingers fiddling with bits of a napkin.  
  
“I’ll have eggs on toast please, and a ginseng tea, thank you.” Yixing bows his head at the waiter and anticipates Baekhyun’s order. Nothing is coming out of those bitten lips.  
  
“Hey, you gonna get anything?”  
  
“Um, I - I’ll just get a coffee…” he stammers out, shoulders hunched in a feeble attempt to hide ambivalent eyes. Yixing’s chest almost contorts. The Baekhyun from last night was unrelenting and impulsive. The Baekhyun now cowers at the offer of free food.  
  
“I’m paying you back remember. This time I’m hooking you up,” he smiles reassuringly.  
The menu bounces a white glow of sunshine back up into Baekhyun’s face. His busy eyes scan the menu again.  
  
“Can I get the breakfast plate… with the lot?”  
  
The waiter nods scribbling his order down. “See? You are hungry,” Yixing teases and Baekhyun stiffly bobs his head looking away across the street. Two dogs strung along by taut leashes, battle it out in a storm of brash barking as their panicked owners try to pull them apart.  
  
But their mouths don’t make a peep as they sit and wait, relying on their phones to appease the tension. Yixing just keeps refreshing his emails but nothing new comes through.  
  
No, wait… damn, just more work shit.  
  
Can’t he just enjoy the tiny bit of freedom he gets on a weekend? So far its been an interesting diversion from his usual trek home at 1am, then spending the rest of his time in bed binge watching his favourite shows in his boxers. Meeting Baekhyun had steered his routine against the grain towards a night unfiltered, running their mouths run off on any illogical thought or drug-induced hypothesis. Feeling an unexpected warm body near him as their giggles intertwined. Letting his hand touch him and be almost paralyzed by the excitement.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes widen at the sight of a mountain of food balancing on a wide plate, the wavy steam rising from his fried eggs and bacon. They dig in and Yixing tries again to jump-start the failing conversion.  
  
“You sing really well by the way,” prompting Baekhyun to blanch.  
  
“You heard that huh?” shielding his brow with his hand.  
  
“Well Whitney, you were really going for it,” he teases.  
  
“Consider yourself lucky. The toilet bowl is my only audience,” he playfully retorts stuffing his mouth.  
  
“Why? You’re good enough to sing for real people,” Yixing takes a sip of his tea and it burns the tip of his tongue, wincing at the pain.  
  
“What do you do, Yixing?” Baekhyun’s neck turns stiff again, voice sounding distant so Yixing doesn’t push it. They are strangers after all. “I fix printers,” it almost comes out like a lisp thanks to the rough burn in his mouth. Baekhyun’s shoulders relax into a hearty laugh, “Wow I didn’t pin you for a repairman,” he covers his mouth so the food doesn’t splatter everywhere. He already has a coffee stain on his borrowed shirt.  
  
“Yeah yeah you laugh, but the money is good. I go around different office buildings and just tinker away with my headphones on. But it’s oddly satisfying. Like I have healing hands or something,” he explains, wiping the egg yolk from his fingers.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes light up and his appearance turns to something akin to a condescending parent, “And did you always want to be a printer repairman when you grew up,” laughing again at the absurdity.  
  
"No, actually,” Yixing responds matter-of-factly. “I wanted to be a performer on stage. But I fucked that up so…” His voice tremors as his eyes squint. Flashes of the paralyzing pain. Stiff Hospital blankets. The smell of moist plaster and bleach. The thin, black outline of a perfect, round ring inscribed by his ribcage. A promise--  
  
“Sorry. That sucks”.  
  
“Its fine”.  
  
Baekhyun pauses to think while cutting into a juicy roman tomato, its seeds cascading onto the shine of white ceramic, “Well it suits you”.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“I mean I assumed you did some like artsy shit, but then I saw your place and…” his eyebrows dart up, sarcastically exasperated.  
  
“And?”  
  
“It's like you wash your walls in bleach,” his laughter bubbling over, amused by Yixing’s obvious offence.  
  
“And what's so bad about that!”  
  
“But it’s your home, not a hospital” Baekhyun playfully jabs with cheeky eyes. He takes an admonishing finger and points it right in Yixing’s suppressed smile. “I bet you are one of those people who never use public toilets.” Yixing can’t help but laugh, “I am not some sort of germaphobe though. I just like order”, he shrugs finishing off his last bite of soggy bread.  
  
Yixing notices Baekhyun eye him off, head low like revealing a secret, “you like control?” eyes catching the light, an illusion of deep red.  
  
Yixing sensing the implication tries to brush it off with casual dismissal. Playing along with their game he asks, “And what does your place say about you?” A strong wind picks up and he feels it whip the side of his face like a slap.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes shift along with the changing light as clouds suddenly roll over the sky and hide the sun away. He has nothing left on his plate, soaking up every bit of juice with bits of bread. His stomach feels so content and his mouth, a blaze with flavours dancing over his taste buds. The sweetness from the tomato, the lightness of the egg and the crunch of the thickly cut, buttery bread. It's been a while. But none of that reaches his lips. Instead, he sets his expression back into it’s rehearsed confidence.  
  
“It says…”  
  
The words hang in front of Yixing’s line of sight, while beneath the table his groin feels the friction of Baekhyun’s foot pushing against him. A distant rumble of thunder rattles their bones.  
  
“…I’m out of control,” his smirking lips let slip his pink tongue.  
  
The sky cracks and Yixing jolts at the words like an arrow hitting his chest. The air rumbles again, a storm rolling in slowly. The pressure against his lap stirs a buzzing heat thrumming down his limbs and knocks his mind off kilter. It stays there floating around him as he pays the bill and invites Baekhyun back to his place.    
  
  


 

  
  
  
  
~  
  


 

 

  
  
  
The afternoon sun bursts through, creating a perfectly square patch of rain-dappled light against Yixing’s wall. Like a spotlight, Baekhyun’s body enters its glow coating him in a pattern of dancing burnt yellow. Yixing walks backwards, closing the door behind him with the tips of his fingers, keeping his eyes locked on Baekhyun’s leaning form. The slope curves from his resting shoulders down to his pelvis, jutting out in invitation. Yixing steps into it feeling unwavering suspense intensify. He senses the distant heat of the sun against his arm and then the immediate heat of Baekhyun’s hips against his own. Staring at slightly open lips, Yixing hears Baekhyun’s husky voice that cracks slightly with a caught breath, “You could have kissed me last night. Why didn't you?” Yixing’s brow tightens and simply replies, “you said no,” the final word, soft like a puff of smoke that lingers in the air.  
  
The floor just disappears from under Baekhyun’s trembling legs. He holds in a breath as his sunken eyes flicker across Yixing’s concerned expression. “You okay?” he asks and takes his palm again to gently place it against Baekhyun’s burning cheek. It feels so foreign. The type of care that feels like a distant memory. Its face corrupted by time, entitled hands and mean voices. He can feel a sting behind his eyes but wills it away. His chest then leaps at the words that he never gets to say, “you can kiss me now.” They are timid but true and a million flowers bloom when Yixing pulls him in by his neck and presses his warms lips against his own.  
  
Yixing moves closer until Baekhyun's shoulders flatten against the wall again, arms hanging in astonishment. When Yixing pulls away he only follows, whispering, “again”. Yixing’s lips become impassioned by desperate whimpers that emit from the back of his throat. Their wet tongues roll over each other between fused lips. Their feverish nerves create this staticky sensation that gets stronger the deeper they indulge. He lets Yixing lick the crook of his neck. The tips of his fingers go numb as he tries to grab hold of loose fabric, pressing his palm against Yixing’s heaving abdomen to gasp for air.  
  
“You wanna stop?” Yixing backs away, both hands attached to Baekhyun’s dazed face, thumb nursing his fresh cut.  
  
Baekhyun climbs his fingers up, over wrinkled cotton, across slanted shoulders and into soft hair. His grip closes against scalp. He smiles, “you can do whatever you want to me.” The admission rumbles through him, gripping at Yixing’s hair tighter, pulling him in. With pressed foreheads, Baekhyun looks up into Yixing’s glazed eyes and dimpled brow.  
  
“Can I fuck you?”  
  
Baekhyun nods desperately nudging his nose in the crook of his hard features. Yixing’s hands take control of his jaw to guide him back into a kiss, hooked on the taste. Baekhyun keeps his hands locked in his hair afraid to let go and Yixing grips his ass, massaging the soft flesh under the grain of his woollen trousers. It drives Baekhyun wild, trying to jut his pelvis forward and push himself against Yixing’s dick for more.  
  
Their desire blooms as a dense billow of smoke that fills the air. Its swirls around them as they get lost in the high of their deep kisses pressed bodies and shallow breaths.  
  
Yixing’s arms wrap around Baekhyun’s torso, feeling the dips in his rib cage. Baekhyun’s limbs lose their ability to hold his weight up, letting Yixing pick him up by his shivering thighs in one swift motion, wrapping legs around hips. They rut against each other feverishly hoping the friction will start a fire. Yixing almost loses his balance when Baekhyun tilts his head down and licks into his mouth, rapid pulses of air escaping his lungs through flared nostrils. Yixing pushes him back against the wall with a thud, breaking the kiss, staring into each other with a magnetic lock.  
  
Yixing catches his breath, eyeing that tantalizing tongue teasing him again. Baekhyun’s lips are glossed over with their saliva, glinting like the falling raindrops against the glass. The window rattles.  
  
Baekhyun moans out his name as Yixing aggressively bucks his hips and jolts him up the wall. He feels the way his hair grazes against the plaster. He feels the way Yixing rests his head in the crook of his neck. He feels a staggered breath pass over his skin, goosebumps forming along his chest. Feels a hard cock press into his own. Feels his weight shift and gravity’s force drop him down on to a bouncy mattress. Still locked together by their heated hips, Yixing’s excited hands fumble across his stomach and chest as it rises and falls with every touch.  
  
He pushes up the soft tee and swirls his red tongue over Baekhyun’s firm nipple. He moans. Yixing secretly smiles as he pulls back and lets his nose meets the tip, slowly rubbing against it in small circles. Baekhyun nods along urgently pushing Yixing’s head back down, fingers knotted in his hair. Yixing’s hands find their way under Baekhyun’s arched back, thumbs rubbing in its indentations. There he just stays sucking and biting down on him wanting to hear him cry out, raspy and dishevelled.  
  
Baekhyun’s hard dick rocks against Yixing’s sternum. He releases his suction and dots little kisses down past Baekhyun’s belly button and back up along his side. He pushes his arms up and nuzzles the hollow of his underarm, taking in the scent of an impending storm, continuing to kiss up to his exposed neck. He takes hold of Baekhyun’s jaw to yank him back to his lips, licking at them, breathing hot air into Baekhyun’s open mouth.  
  
Baekhyun can’t help but study Yixing this close up, tracing over the details of fine hairs, faint acne scars and a shadow of stubble. His vision goes dark suddenly, shutting his eyes at the intense thrill he gets when Yixing starts rubbing at his cock. He hears his belt fly off in a hurry and the button fall loose. The cool air makes the hair on his bare legs stand on end. Yixing runs his palms down his thighs, lowers his head and bites down on his flesh. “Fuck” he murmurs, licking his own lips.  
  
Yixing covers his supple skin with a pattern of ruthless marks, everyone coming with a throaty moan. Yixing becomes drunk on the sounds, growing impossibly hard. With his head between Baekhyun’s slackened legs, Yixing lifts them up from the back of his knees and noses his damp briefs. The heat that steams from his mouth sends chills throughout Baekhyun’s body. His toes curl at the teasing, but his body wiggles and whines in frustration just wishing Yixing would just devour him. “Please,” he whines feeling tears almost collect in his eyes. “Please, Yixing”.  
  
His face bursts into a smile when the band of his briefs stretch out and Yixing’s hands drag them down his legs leaving a trail of tingles. His dick twitches when his knees are thrust up again until all his weight presses down onto his shoulders. His lungs contract at the angle and shock comes out in staccato gasps when Yixing runs his nose along his hole. A bead of pre-cum collects at his red tip and drops down onto his chin. Yixing starts tonguing at his opening savouring the taste. Baekhyun starts to feel light-headed, Yixing’s muscle tensing and slipping into him teasingly. All the blood rushes down to his brain that’s just buzzing with unprecedented pleasure. He paints Baekhyun with his thickened saliva, tongue swirling and tight, tickling him with his strained breath.  
  
Baekhyun is lowered down and with his remaining strength sits himself up. It just enough time for Yixing to fetch some protection from a cardboard box under his bed. It almost bursts open as Baekhyun eyes the insane number of rubbers shoved inside. There must be others. But he selfishly thinks they’ll get to use them all.  
  
Yixing manoeuvres himself to sit against to wall, allowing Baekhyun to crawl and kneel into his lap. They connect again with slanted necks and open mouths. They feel the luscious sensations of wet lips, sweetly sticky and moreish. Baekhyun laces his arms around Yixing’s neck holding him close, loving the feeling of their chests falling together. As their passionate kiss rages on, Yixing slides his zipper. At the sound, Baekhyun lifts his hips pushing tight jeans away, enough to let Yixing’s cock out and finally brush against his. They cry at the touch of silky skin, rubbing them together until their kiss breaks from the intensity.  
  
“You want me, hmm?” Baekhyun asks, sounding soft and wrecked. Yixing lets out an airy yeah, looking up with owlish eyes into Baekhyun’s smouldering gaze. “I want you so bad, let me fuck you, please”. His words take Baekhyun into a dizzying state, keening at him with hands that pull at the roots.  
  
“Put your fingers inside” he whispers with flushed cheeks ready to completely give himself over to Yixing. Its never felt so intoxicating. Yixing does as told, the contractions, mind reaching ecstasy. Carefully and patiently he rubs him open looking up into his wincing expressions, waiting for them to melt away. He soothes Baekhyun by caressing his bare ass cheek and kneads his subtle flesh with his unyielding grip. Baekhyun’s neck grows slack and lazily flounders about, his short nails embed in his scalp collecting dead skin. Yixing retaliates by clawing at his ass leaving behind pink trails. He whimpers at the first stinging slap to his ass wishing for more. For Yixing to take over every sense. He pulls his head and murmurs in Yixing’s ear, “again”.  
  
They swirl and flick the tips of their glossy tongues together, Yixing fumbling with the foil wrapping and blindly covers himself. He holds Baekhyun’s torso up, hands between burning skin and silky cotton, and eases himself inside Baekhyun’s warmth. The throbbing of his cock beats in time with the throbbing of his heart. The blood that courses through his veins is like a gushing river, crashing against hard rock.  
  
 “You feel me?” He asks against Baekhyun’s gaping mouth. He nods back, all efforts to speak burning away. A shrill smack echoes in his ears. The sting lingers on his ass cheeks in the shape of a flattened palm. “Tell me,” Yixing’s voice firm, muffled with tension. Baekhyun can feel his neck muscles protrude under his delicate fingers. “Y-yes… I can feel you inside me,” he replies clumsily between melodious hums and cracked whines. Yixing lifts him up and down against his shining cock.  
  
“You want my dick Baekhyun?” They suddenly still at Yixing’s stern question, his cock buried deep inside him. The anticipation gnaws at his chest.“Mm-hmm,” Baekhyun’s throaty reply is met with a grin and only then does he notice the subtle shadow of the cutest dimple.  
  
“It feels good?” Yixing asks flicking his tongue out to paint the tip of his nose. Baekhyun senses the power in his hands that travel all over his back and wind and grip around his waist. Security runs through Yixing’s touch.  
  
“You feel so good, Yixing,” the words so easy to form.  
  
The moment of solitude is punctured with a yelping “Fuck!” when Yixing draws in his brows and fucks up into him with a furious thrust. It’s the beginning of unrelenting hips, his dick never stopping, fueled my Baekhyun’s reckless cries. Yixing’s gaze remains stoic as he tries to lock their eyes together. It’s fascinating observing how undone Baekhyun becomes. He bites his lip down to suppress a victorious smile, seeing tears pool and glimmer in his eyes.  
  
“Look at me,” Yixing whispers in his bobbing ear, making his lips fold and flick with every thrust. He captures Baekhyun’s earlobe, sucking on it with light bites. He then leans back, releasing it with a pop and stops to wait for Baekhyun to register his instruction. But his eyes are closed and face downturned. In the silence, Yixing listens to their ragged breathing mixing together like the swimming fumes of cigarette smoke. The storm’s breeze passes through the thin opening of his window, cooling their skin. It ruffles stray bits of Baekhyun’s hair and Yixing is taken by the delicate threads dancing in the wind. Yixing’s desk covered in flecks of rain.  
  
“Huh?” Baekhyun finally responds unfocused. High. His eyelids flutter, his lips glisten and flame red. It's cute. Yixing holds his face and brings him close. The proximity unexpectedly addictive.  
  
With a tiny giggle, Yixing begins to shift their weight and lowers them until Baekhyun feels comforting cushioning beneath him. Yixing doesn’t force Baekhyun’s grip loose, staying close as if they’ll suddenly fuse into one. “I want you to look at me,” his voice is calm like still waters. Baekhyun eyes wobble and the tears finally escape down his temple, collected by the sweat of his hairline.  
  
“I promise” he sniffles.  
  
Yixing fucks into him slow, relishing their the grind of their bodies, Baekhyun’s cock rolling between them, hard and pleading for touch. Yixing pulls up his shirt again, softly kissing his swollen nipples and Baekhyun just wants to scream with joy. The way Yixing satisfies every part of him. The way every pump of his cock hits him with pain but every caress singes his soul. When their eyes meet again, Baekhyun is willingly waiting with a desperate expression.  
  
They hold each other impossibly tight, till their muscles hurt. They feel their kisses igniting a raging fire in their chests. They feel the drumming of each thrust jolt through every nerve ending like buzzing electricity. Minds swirl with illogical senses. Chests rattle in a harmony of bassy moans and raspy whines. The pace escalates. They feel each other drive closer.  
  
“I--I-I love you”  
  
Baekhyun’s whine cracks and morphs into passionate gasps as Yixing makes him come, hot between them. He lets Baekhyun’s sudden words ring in his ears, head buried in his neck, lips against his driving pulse.  
  
  


 

  
  
  
~  
  
  
  


 

  
  
The hammering at the bathroom door only makes Baekhyun’s headache worse. Mortified, he pushed away at Yixing’s grasping hands and slammed the door to hide. He now sits with his bare ass, cold against the tiles and barricades the door with his body weight. His knees pressed close and palms masking the complete embarrassment.  
  
I love you?  
  
What the fuck was that all about? His stupid fucking mouth has to go and fuck up the rare chance for another comfortable night on clean sheets. He’ll kick him out for sure. The bangs keep drumming behind him and Yixing’s hardened voice vibrates through the dense wood, “Baekhyun, come out now!”  
  
The fear only heightens in Baekhyun’s mind and he clasps his hands together hitting his forehead, knuckles running white in prayer. Wishing to just sprout wings and flee. He imagines an expanse of glittering shards of glass as his body crashes through the window, where the curve of his feathers cut through the air and take him up into the clouds.  
  
FUCK!  
  
The back of his head beats the door, uncaring and breath turns laboured as he scratches at his knees. The tension of his chest winds itself so tightly that it breaks. His eyes stream with hot tears and his shoulders rumble with silent cries, too fucking terrified to let Yixing hear him. What a pathetic loser he is. Sitting in his own sticky filth, in a t-shirt that doesn’t belong to him because he only has one. His vision increasingly blurs only seeing blaring white balls of the sun’s light reflect against pure white tiles. He doesn’t belong here. He is the grime that forms in the grout. He is the patches of mould that blemish the ceiling. He is the bacteria that sits at the bottom of the toilet bowl. He’ll get into your system and make you sick. The poisonous thoughts take shape as the random faces he lets use his body, hearing their voices spit at him in a loop.  
  
He cries until he runs dry. Its just sniffles and mucusy coughs. Detached, he lays down on the cold floor, waiting for sleep to take him instead. The last thing he registers is the rain dissolve into silence.  
  


 

 

  
  
  
~  
  


 

 

  
  
  
The whistling of a kettle brings him back to consciousness. His eyes feel locked together as if his tears congealed to his lashes. He rubs away the muck and looks around realising he is still in Yixing’s tiny apartment, under the protection of his fluffy blanket. His head thankful for the cushioning, still feeling a dull pain where his skull hit the door.  
  
“You okay?” Yixing asks. He whips his head around to see him standing by the kitchen, tending to his tea. Baekhyun pauses at the question and his throat starts to close up again. “Do you want some tea too?” his expression innocent and full of naive care. Baekhyun wonders how he can be like that and still pummel into him into the mattress. He hides himself under a fold of the blanket shying at the vivid memory. His reply comes out as a quiet yes, hearing the rustle of a plastic bag. He peeks through his insulated cave and sees a shiny new mug perched right beside Yixing’s old one.  
  
“You finally stocking up?” he perks, content from the layers of warmth, like a mother’s womb, eyes fluttering slow and drowsy. Yixing fills up each cup with steaming hot water and hands Baekhyun his.  
  
Slightly hesitant he picks himself up and leans against the wall, hands tremor as he reaches out to feel the heat against his palm. Yixing promptly sits next to him, closer than what he thought. Their shoulders meet and he can sense Yixing’s concerned eyes travel over him. He tries to distract himself, blowing against the steam hovering over his cup observing curling patterns and the rippling water. The rain stopped and the sky is nearing deep blues. The whole room bathes in the cool light. “You’re right I don’t have people over, ever,” Yixing stares back down into his own tea flecks of green leaves dispersing through the spiralling current, “but I do now”.  
  
Yixing tries to kiss Baekhyun’s cheek but he quickly cowers away growing bitter like the taste of burnt green tea.  
  
“Don’t.”  
  
Yixing pulls back and he can hear the huff of frustration leave his lungs. The quiet is maddening and Baekhyun quickly downs the rest of his drink, some of it leaking down his chin. “I should probably get going,” pulling the sheets away and scurrying around trying to look for his clothes. He blocks out everything as his vision becomes tunnelled, focusing on his escape route, never noticing Yixing’s yells echo down the corridor as he runs out into an unforgiving world.  
  
  


 

 

  
  
  
sunday

☝

  
  
Dissonant chords ring out on a dim afternoon. Yixing always sets two hours to scrub up on his elementary, piano playing with his old Casio his mum bought him as a kid. Flashes of torn wrapping paper. Aching fingers. The droning voice of his piano teacher. The black outline of small hands that sit at his inner wrist.  
  
Now he sits at the edge the room, lit by a diffuse of grey sky. His fingers feel cold and stiff and nothing is coming out right. He rubs his eyes out of annoyance trying yet again, to just get through this fucking verse. But his right-hand keeps fucking up the melody and his mind is miles away, trying to locate what dismal back alley Baekhyun had disappeared to. It all happened so quick like a flash and Yixing lay in bed dumbfounded unable to remove the smudges that now coat the film of his clear vision, warping everything into skewed forms and distorted thoughts.  
  
Another sharp note stings his ears and the frustration slams down at the keys in a jumble of noise.  They resonate in the still air and Yixing leaves his post to get his mind off it all. Compelled to set his mind at ease, Yixing scurries around the room, wiping down benches, washing the two mugs left out on his nightstand, taking out the rubbish and removing the creases in his sheets. Silky, soap suds froth over his already white bathroom tiles, removing any speck of dirt that might exist in the cellular form.  
  
He rummages through his hamper to makes sure every pant pocket is free of tissues but stops at the feel of the softest cotton. He holds it like a precious artefact, still stained with brown coffee and stale tomato seed. The aroma of salt and sweat fills his senses as he pulls it closer to his face. Yixing gets glimpses of burning skin and breathless voices. It sends a familiar wave of tingles down him.  
  
Its soft texture runs between his fingers and he touches himself alone in the darkness of his bedroom. Baekhyun’s warmth, his desperate cries and hot tears. Yixing lays the t-shirt over his face, inhaling his smell wanting to be consumed by it all over again. He comes, biting at the cotton, imagining Baekhyun choking on his dick. The high settles and the guilt storms in.  
  
He looks over to his phone. It's only eight thirty. And the night is still young. Fuck work tomorrow he’ll just call in sick.  
  
He may have lost Baekhyun, but the only way to find something again is to retrace one's steps.  
  
  


 

  
  
  
~  
  
  
  


 

  
  
Yixing steps out in the cold night air. His usual pristine appearance forgotten for an old pair of jeans and a protective, padded coat. He wonders around busy streets, scuffing his worn trainers along the sidewalk and absentmindedly bumping into strangers. They scoff and warn him with curses under poorly concealed groans. He drops his phone and it cracks against a jagged curbside. But Yixing pushes through even though every jostle feels like the universe is telling him to turn back, to stay in his sterile bubble and never have to grapple with the dirty world outside.  
  
The red light stops him in his tracks and his minds whirls in a tizzy of worst case scenarios. Baekhyun could have been swept into the dangers of the underworld, throwing wild punches to save his own skin. Then running through alleys hiding in dumpsters, evading capture. That for one reason fits Yixing’s image of Baekhyun. Unkempt and brave. Unafraid to knee someone in the balls then whispering I love you’s in Yixing’s ear.  
  
 I love you…  
  
Baekhyun came into his life like a blazing flame of brilliant, saturated colours, and could easily disappear into the ether. Every facet of him, marred by life, while Yixing’s left no traces. Doused himself in bleach robbed of cuts, smells and stains. Hiding behind an agreeable facade, nullifying his hidden pain with dainty, bite-sized black lines.  
  
…Green means go.  
  
Its glow lights his porcelain skin. Neon signs thump their colours into the dark. Different bars and clubs filled with people like him looking for something tangible. Something to fill the loneliness. As he walks past each entrance he can hear the bass pounding, beating images into his head. Flashes of anonymous faces and their seductive smiles whispering inviting words and leading him on to their interchangeable homes.  
  
He wonders where Baekhyun lives. What his mundane every day looks like. How many times he cackles with laughter or if they would like the same movies or all the things they would do together…  
  
His feet start to throb and his eyes grow heavy. His phone lights up, telling him it's already 1am. He lets out his umpteenth yawn, strong enough to bring tears to his eyes. He circled through the club district, asking people if they smoke and use a dealer. Some respond with nonchalance, others with judgement. But no one makes a single mention of Baekhyun or responds to his name.  
  
  
The end of the path now meets the beginning as he loops back to the alley they first met. It’s just as dark and ominous but holds a bittersweet hope. It’s nearing 2am now but he forces his energy out in one final desperate act. His remaining phone charge is enough to beam its strong bright torch. He examines every detail as if searching for clues. He makes out the tattered brick walls and snaking leaky pipes. Tufts of green grass grow from cracks in the cement and spatters of spray paint decorate peeling posters.  
He keeps walking and the noise of the street fades.  
  
“Hey”  
  
The voice is foreign, coloured by sweetness but laced with provocative notes. Yixing points his light into its direction and sees a woman standing with legs crudely wide, hip crooked and a hand shielding her eyes framed by a wild orange mane. “You mind not pointing that thing at me, darling”, she nasally giggles like its a performance. He bounces the light against the wall covering them with diffuse, dull light. As his eyes adjust he makes out a street lamp further down, burning like a lone candle. He then notices her dark lips, pointed heels and an expression that oozes come-hither.  
  
“Like what you see?”  
  
Yixing freezes at her gaze like daggers, decorated by a beauty mark dotted on her cheek. He coughs out awkwardly and nervously tries to form a sentence. Any sentence.  
  
“I um, I’m actually looking for someone in particular,”  
  
Her cheeky smile drops in an instant as if turning off her red light. “Just my luck. I finally think I land a looker and he is looking for someone in particular,” she affects her disappointment with cartoon-ish cuteness and googly eyes, extinguishing any guilt he had. She huffs “maybe, I can still be of service?” walking into his space, taking a delicate finger to tidy a tuft of his hair. His smile is warm and hers is friendly.  
  
“Friday night, I met someone here. A guy named Baekhyun. Claimed he sold dope. You haven’t come across him have you?”  
  
Her eyes brighten at the name and Yixing thinks he can breathe again. “Of course! I love Baekhyunie!”  
  
“Really?” astonished at his luck.  
  
“Yeah! He comes by when he needs money or place to crash. He is a trouble maker that kid but a charmer. You friends?” she takes the opportunity to take out her lipstick and reapply.  
  
“We slept together” he shyly explains “but we never exchanged contact info. Do you know where I can find him?”  
  
“Mmm-hmm” she nods smacking her lips together. “My roommate is out of town, so I gave him her bed to sleep in. Poor guy,” she pouts and Yixing starts to feel deep sadness wretch at his heart. It probably is etched into his face too because he feels a consoling palm rest on his shoulder.  
  
“You want me to take you?” looking like she’s come across a wounded puppy. He bobs his head with earnest happiness. “Are you sure? I can pay you regardless,” He fetches his wallet, pulling out all the cash he has “think of it as investing in local business” he smirks.  
  
“Hey, I wouldn’t say no. I’m a free agent anyways,” she shrugs completely self-aware, laughing at her own shamelessness. “Come on then, sweetie” she turns and clicks her heels towards the light end of the alley. They walk past a couple of other girls in puffy cropped jackets and impossibly short skirts, laying in wait for cashed-up suits to fill their flimsy masculine ego and bleak existence.  
  
He catches up to her confident stride, “I’m Yixing by the way”.  
  
“Hyuna!” she turns to him, winking her glittery eye.  
  
  


 

  
  
  
~  
  


 

  
  
  
  
“I’ll be in my room if you need anything but, Baekhyunie pretty much knows the place just as much as me,” her jangling keys turn at the lock. It’s a basement apartment under this amazing Chinese restaurant that Hyuna salivates at. The front wooden door is wrinkled by deep creases and exposed grain, framed by more leaky pipes and patches of moss that wallpaper the battered brick. The door stalls and she shoulders it open like an NFL player.  
  
It creaks open to reveal a glow of warm orange light just like Hyuna’s wild, curly hair. It’s an eclectic mix of odd retro furniture, patterned throws, kitsch posters and oddities that fill up every possible surface. He wonders around distracted by this cat clock on the wall. Its Mickey Mouse eyes look side to side on every tick, accompanied by a swaying tail. In the distance, he hears a rhythmic rapt at a door and muffled music.  
  
“Baekhyunie, come out you have a visitor.”  
  
His voice booms back in confusion. “WHAT?”  
  
“YES! He is pretty handsome…I might have to steal him from you if you don’t move your butt!”  
  
“Okay, okay I’m coming” his voice whines as a kid nagged into submission to join the dinner table. He opens the door wide to a bedazzled Yixing, still standing by the ticking clock. An anxious cloud fills his lungs. His chest rises and falls in the anticipation and buries his trembling hands in his back pockets.  
  
“How?” Baekhyun asks stone-faced. Yixing can feel a hard ball form at his throat.  
  
Baekhyun stands uncouth in a shabby sweater and holes in his socks. Surrounded by a jungle of lost and found objects. Yixing muses that he fits right in with the homely embroidered cushions and naive folk prints of tigers and exotic birds. With the worn Persian carpets collecting dust and the haphazard spoon collection hanging over a leaning canvas depicting an abstract nude.  
  
“Sheer luck,” the tension in his neck strains his voice, sounding timid and small.  
  
“How much did she tell you because, if you are looking to score I can’t help you okay.”  
  
“What do you me-“  
  
Baekhyun interrupts him with a bitter huff, “I’m not a drug dealer okay. I’m no one. So... sorry to disappoint you,” he starts to turn back to his room and mutters, “show yourself out please,” closing the door behind him with a gentle thud. But it sounds like an explosion echoing through Yixing’s head. He stills completely at a loss, feet unable to move.  
  
Nothing feels right.  
  
He forces himself to sober up, scrunching his features and blinking his eyes at the puzzling reality. No. This is bullshit. He spent all night looking for him just to make sure he was okay. To unveil the mystery of his departure. To end it here? To sign a full stop? The implication rings through his whole being as impossible. He doesn’t want to bleach away the marks Baekhyun has left in his soul.  
  
He bolts to Baekhyun’s locked door and curls his nails into the grain. “N-no,” Yixing stutters out trying to control the raging hailstorm of emotions. “You’re wrong” his lips quiver against the edge of the door, hoping his voice makes it through the gap. “I just want to talk.”  
  
His body slides down its cold surface until he seats himself on the dusty ground. “I’m not leaving here until you open the door and talk to me”.  
  
There is nothing but a pained quiet so he passes the time tracing his finger over the tiny indentations and picking at flakes of peeling paint.  
  
“Baekhyun” he urges again, “I looked for you, aimlessly. Everywhere I could think of.” His voice burns with passion and his eyes gape, “I had no idea what the fuck I was doing but I tried,” the late hour of the night starts to weigh on him, “I never even expected to be here… Baekhyun?”  
  
On the other side of the door, Baekhyun presses his ear against the hardwood and seals his eyes shut to shun the tears away.  
  
“Please let me in”  
  
  
  


 

  
  
~  
  
  


 

  
  
  
Waxy, faux leather pants. Sheens of silk scarves. Bright blue tartan wool. Bleached ripped denim. Fine pin-stripe pleats. Yixing is taken by the splendour of colour and texture that fills the tiny bedroom. Baekhyun finds a spot on the bed that takes up the length of the room. Above, a mirrored disco ball illuminates the walls, dotted with gentle light revealing a rough collage of brightly coloured magazine cutouts. “She is studying to be a fashion designer,” Baekhyun perks up observing the way Yixing investigates the details.  
  
“Are these her drawings?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah” Baekhyun remains stoic.  
  
“She is really good…you seem to have cool friends.”  
  
He nods politely but Baekhyun’s insides endure ballooning anxiety. Why the fuck is Yixing even here? He is the last person he expected to come round to find him at the early hours of the morning in the shivering cold. The absurdity yanks at his sanity pulling it off balance.  
  
“Hyuna’s pretty awesome?” the tone of Yixing’s voice resonates as hesitant in Baekhyun’s ears.  
  
“More like a nagging aunty,” Yixing shyly snickers and Baekhyun sighs in relief.  
  
Baekhyun bows his head, all telling features doused in shadows. He senses Yixing’s weight pull down the corner of the mattress, creaking as it depresses.  
  
“She mentioned you needed a place to stay…”  
  
He chooses not to answer instead the shame manifests in picking the dead skin from the corners of his bitten nails. He rips at a hang-nail and it starts to bleed, capturing the drips between the suction of his lips.  
  
“I would have let you stay on at mine”.  
  
“I don’t need your pity okay,” he says under his breath pinching the tip and watching as the blood collects in his cuticles.  
  
“Okay” Yixing responds, tone careful and earnest, “but I wasn’t”.  
  
“Whatever…”  
  
Baekhyun’s hand gets dragged across the expanse of their distance as Yixing inspects the damage of his thumb. It stirs a brief fluttering deep inside Baekhyun’s belly, letting Yixing’s tender touch tend to the sting. With hidden eyes, Yixing says, “I liked what we did Baekhyun. I don’t understand what the issue is…”  
  
“Shit…” Baekhyun groans getting flashbacks of their melding bodies and those stupid, stupid words. He pulls his hand back and rubs his face down, trying to scrub the horrendous embarrassment away. “Don’t make me say it” he drones, pulling down his checks and stretching out the reds of his eye sockets.  
  
“I can’t make you do anything Baekhyun”.  
  
Yixing’s words hang in the air as their gazes connect in the silence. Baekhyun’s vision of a patient and kind Yixing start to fill with tears, warping the shape of his enlarged pupils. “Why--,” his voice cuts off into a turbulent mess and his neck muscles pull together only straining his rasp even more.  
  
“Why even bother with someone like me?” the tears still never falling past the line of an eyelash.  
  
“Someone like you?” Yixing asks, "What's wrong with you?"  
  
“I'm... nothing. Dirt."  
  
“No, you're not”  
  
“Then what am I?” his lips wobble and it's getting hard to hide from Yixing. His arms that take in into a hug. The soft whisper in his ear that reminds him that kindness exists.  
  
“You are nothing but brave, Baekhyun. Its remarkable”  
  
“You don't even know me”  
  
“I think that doesn't matter. I want to know you"  
  
The words silence him as he rests the side of his cheek on Yixing’s strong shoulder and there, empties all his sorrow and tainted memories. With every passing day, they have worked their way into the recesses of his mind like maggots feasting on his once bristling self-love. Yixing’s fingers massage the back of his neck and it helps to release their toxic grip. Those caring hands conjuring in him overflowing acceptance. It feels glorious as his lungs calm to take in long inhalations of Yixing’s scent: droplets of dew collected on green blades of grass.  
  
“I’ll tell you a secret okay?” Yixing whispers against his skull. Baekhyun nods against him and nuzzles further in Yixing’s shoulder. “No one has ever told me they loved me. I’ve never really given someone the chance to get that close. That’s truly pathetic”.  
  
“I’m sorry”, he sniffles, the guilt of his own actions tighten his throat again.  
  
“Its okay"  
  
Yixing starts rocking them back and forth like the ticking of the cats tail. It counts the millions of seconds that suspend their embrace.  
  
  


 

 

  
~  
  
  
  


 

  
  
The night wears on until they reach the edge of the night, as it transitions to a sun-lit sky. The first traces of light seep through the tiny window, creating a soft glow of lavender. Yixing stays by Baekhyun’s side, wrapped up in cloud covered bed sheets, letting their whispers imbue together in a symphony of relaxed thoughts.  
  
“What really happened with that baldy?” Yixing asks, his nose almost brushing the tip of Baekhyun’s.  
  
“I was gonna go see Hyuna, then he showed up and asked if I was interested in a small bag. I stupidly thought he could give me a place to stay”.  
  
Yixing listens intently and takes in every subconscious twitch of his eyebrow and every blink of long lashes. “How did you get this though?” Baekhyun feels a tingle when Yixing brushes the pad of his thumb against the cut and a blooming bruise. “I said I didn’t have any money so he told me to suck him off. Then I kneed him in the face”. Yixing’s face bursts with laughter. “When you showed up and he bolted, his shit must have fallen out so I took it” he continues on, feeling his own laughter bubbling out.  
  
“You’re not only a liar but a thief”.  
  
“Hey, finders keepers”.  
  
“And what made you run after me?”  
  
Baekhyun shrugs burrowing his head in his pillow, his nose scrunching at the angle. Yixing places his palm against his cheek as his temperature rises. Baekhyun peeps from his hiding place noticing Yixing’s hard cheekbones and soft eyes. “You are really beautiful,” he voices small and transfixed. “Why did you let me come back with you?”  
  
Yixing hides a smirk, “you do this thing with your tongue”.  
  
Baekhyun’s eyes slowly swell with glee. “Really?” his voice smoulders, resting the tip of his pink tongue at the corner of his open mouth. He watches Yixing’s gaze become magnetized. The heat beneath the covers starts to steam. Baekhyun nudges his hips closer wanting to connect their bodies again. But Yixing doesn’t make a move, like a scared animal caught in a blinding flood light. So he tries to press against him further, chest against chest, legs between legs all the way down to their nuzzling toes. He then lets his hand fall behind Yixing’s back, tracing the bumps along his spine and noses Yixing’s protruding collar bones. He feels Yixing’s chest lowly rumble, “Do you really love me?” he asks, trembling like a distant earthquake.  
  
Baekhyun lets his lips and chin graze across his exposed skin mulling over the delicate question. “I don’t know,” he lets past his lips, “but I love what you do to me. I love how you make me feel”. His elation skyrockets when Yixing wraps his arms around him like a strong wind. The embrace desperately close as Yixing’s hands smooth over every inch of his torso, across the expanse of his back and grabbing at his fleshy ass.  
  
Baekhyun drowns in the thrill. Yixing’s hot breath fans the back of his neck all the way around his neck, Adam’s apple and up to his lips, kisses deep and sensual. Their tongues glide over searing flesh and hard teeth. They swallow up their arousing moans and high-pitched, anguished whines. When they gasp for air its to stare into each other's eyes that are filled with unspoken conversations. Baekhyun starts to rut against Yixing’s hard dick. The pressure of his hips tightens with Yixing’s hands clutching his ass, slowing down the pleasure. He slips his hands inside his underwear and feels the softness of Baekhyun’s skin, feeling the formation of tiny bumps across his curve.  
  
Baekhyun pulls back watching Yixing’s expression turn to loss. He smiles warmly at him while gracefully sliding himself out of his briefs, his dick throbbing against the heaviness of the quilt. He then does the same for Yixing, every movement handled with the pace of branches rocking in the breeze. He finds a place between Yixing’s shivering legs and licks the flat of his tongue against the base and creeps up till the tip of his tongue swirls around his swollen head and penetrating the seeping slit. With each pang of intense pleasure Yixing caress Baekhyun’s soft features.  
  
His fingers soon find themselves grasping at Baekhyun’s hair when he feels his whole cock devoured, hitting the back of his choking throat. Yixing pulls at the strands and Baekhyun gasps for air. “Come here” he demands, faces close and mouths meeting again. Yixing tastes his salt against Baekhyun’s perfectly narrow lips. He licks into them, drawing his hands down to the back of Baekhyun’s thighs. He tugs at them and Baekhyun follows the motion, straddling Yixing’s chest, hands against the wall for balance. Yixing signals him with an open mouth, so Baekhyun slowly edges his hips forward taken by the swirls of red flesh and against pliable wet lips.  
  
Yixing’s eyes look up to him, owlish and imploring. Baekhyun just nods completely taken over by desire. His hole fills with Yixing’s dry finger and he yells at the surprise. His muscles soon melt under Yixing’s touch, every part of him feeling stimulated.  
  
He allows Yixing to roll them about and find a condom as they get caught in a spiral of sheets, giggling at the chaos.  
  
He turns Baekhyun’s malleable body onto his stomach, grabbing at his hips and pulling them up in the air. He licks Baekhyun’s ass cheek, nibbles at the ripe flesh and hears him cry out into the mattress below. “You are so fucking perfect Baekhyun, please…” he licks into him again sucking at his tight rim then whispers, “let me feel you”. He noses up his crack, then over this bare spine and finally rests at Baekhyun’s neck, his dick fits sung between ass cheeks. Baekhyun moans deep feeling the slow drag of Yixing’s dick moving against him. Baekhyun turns his neck as far as it can go until it strains, just so he can look into Yixing, crying, “I want you, Yixing. Inside” swaying his hips as he keens.  
  
Yixing tongues the corner of his mouth mindlessly and presses kisses in his ear to whisper, “say it…say you love me…”  
  
Yixing’s hardened brow almost shocks Baekhyun out of his trance, slightly confused. A calming touch soothes him as Yixing rubs the lobe of his ear. It turns his mind to ooze and his mouth to go slack.  
  
“I love you”  
  
Yixing moves his cock so it presses against his hole, begging for the heat. Baekhyun bites down on his lip with pent frustration.  
  
“Say my name Baekhyun” Yixing grips hard at his hip bone and his whispers send a buzz of joy that swims at the back of Baekhyun’s closed lids, a wave of emotion ready to spill.  
  
“I love you, Yixing”  
  
He cries out on a broken gasp, Yixing’s impossibly hot cock filling him with a hard thrust. He feels toned arms embrace his chest in a bruising hold, chest to back and gentle fingers that fumble at his bony frame. Yixing fucks into him with the intimacy of deep, short thrusts. Slapping flesh and compulsive moans. Bite marks all over bare shoulders. Sweat sliding against their bodies. His heavy dick untouched and tender. When Yixing touches him so deeply, hole pulsing, they come together. Shudders ricochet through every fibre, falling into each other's arms and as they let themselves feel the lasting embers as their passions calm.  
  
“Shit” Baekhyun mutters. His lips puff behind Yixing’s sensitive ear. It tickles, but the utterance stirs a worry within him. “What’s wrong?” he responds and brings his arms in tighter. On instinct, he kneads the back of Baekhyun’s curved neck and brings their faces together, noses pressing forming tiny creases. Expecting distress, Yixing instead spots a shy smile. Baekhyun pucker’s his pink tinted lips and places a gentle kiss that quells the worry in Yixing’s heart.  
  
“We need to clean these sheets asap”, Yixing smiles at him with a buoyant laugh, picking him off the bed with a loud heave and helping to strip the messy mattress bare.    
  
  
  


 

 

  
  
monday

✑

  
  
They wake up in the early afternoon, sandwiched together on the single bed. Yixing blinks his eyes open to check the time but his phone is dead only feeling black cracks in the glass. He catches his reflection in the back of the door adorned by a full-length mirror. It shows an image in which Yixing is wrapped up in Baekhyun’s hold. His arm loosely draped at his abdomen and he can feel his breath tickle the stubble at the base of his neck. He sees grinning eyes hover over his head and lips move towards his ear.  
  
“I see you” Baekhyun whispers then a kiss graces his fuzzy earlobe.  
  
Its like Yixing is looking through a window into a parallel universe. One where he is no longer a ghost in the night and Baekhyun has a home in him. However, the warmth that spreads through their held hands reminds him that it's all real. That the moment he met Baekhyun, he stepped through the looking glass and refused to look back. He rolls his body over in the narrow bed. There he finds Baekhyun and all the things that make him real. His hair mussed by the fragrance of oils. His visible veins adorning tired eyes. His soft eyebrows and their fine hairs. The textured imperfections of his skin. Flecks of dark beauty marks by his shiny nose. The pointy peaks of his upper lip. His raspy laugh. His bony body and leg hair. Old wounds dotted over knuckles and knees. Everything that makes him beautiful.  
  
Baekhyun thumbs at his deep dimple and they kiss, impassioned and raw.  
  
Yixing walks home in the chilly afternoon, a spring in his step and staggering bloom in his heart.     
His arms sway back and forth and he glides through the air seamlessly. At home, he dives onto his pristine sheets and breaths in the crisp air. He lifts his right hand and gazes at it mesmerized. In scrawled crooked writing, is Baekhyun’s number. Against the pure white backdrop of his sunlit ceiling, he watches as blue ink seeps in deep and stains translucent skin.  
  
   
  
 


End file.
